She again
saw a hated blue envelope bearing her own name. When all the
other letters were distributed, she slipped hers into the pocket
of her dress, without any one perceiving the action.
Breakfast was over at last; and leaving Lord Airlie talking to
Lillian, Beatrice hastened to read the letter. None of Hugh's
anger was there set down; but if she had cared for him her heart
must have ached at the pathos of his simple words. He had
received her note, he said--the note so unworthy of her--and
hastened to tell her that he was obliged to go to London on some
important business connected with his ship, and that he should be
absent three weeks. He would write to her at once on his return,
and he should insist upon seeing her then, as well as exact the
fulfillment of her promise.
It was a respite; much might happen in three weeks. She tore the
letter into shreds, and felt as though relieved of a deadly
weight. If time could but be gained, she thought--if something
could happen to urge on her marriage with Hubert Airlie before
Hugh returned! At any rate, for the moment she was free.
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